


Color Is Awesome

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s05e02 SNAFU, Established Relationship, John/Iris mentioned, M/M, Root/Shaw mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: Root likes nail polish. She's found the perfect shade for John Reese.





	Color Is Awesome

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky) in the [opisummerchallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/opisummerchallenge) collection. 



> Set between 5x02 and 5x03. Established Rinch. Sorry for the negative iReese mentions (when will I learn to quit ship bashing? I don't like being like this).
> 
> The nail polish is a real thing: https://www.opi.com/color/nail-lacquer/cia-color-awesome

John stopped by the subway after work, but Harold wasn't there.

Root arrived just as John was leaving. She stopped him on the stairs. "Hey, John. Are you in a hurry? I have something for you."

He turned and followed her back down again. She rummaged in a drawer, then handed him a little package wrapped in tissue paper. 

"What's the occasion?" John asked, as he unwrapped it. Today wasn't his birthday.

"As thanks for getting all the stuff for my new room. I know Harold passed my list on to you. Any excuse to delegate his chores."

It turned out to be a bottle of nail polish. Kind of teal gray color. John read the label aloud. "C.I.A. Color is Awesome."

Root winked. "I saw it and thought of you." She plucked the polish from his grasp and took hold of his wrist. He let her drag him into her very sparkly makeshift bedroom. She was acting like an excitable teenager. It was weird, but not unwelcome. Good to see her happy, instead of sad.

Root sat down on her bed and got him to take the chair opposite. She intended to paint his nails.

"It's not really about the polish. It gives us a chance to chat. Talk about girls, that sort of thing." She winked. "I spent a lot of time with Harold while we rebuilt the Machine together. You and I should get to know each other better, too."

John held his hand out steady and watched as she unscrewed the lid. "Okay, I'll bite."

She dug her thumb into his palm to encourage him to spread his fingers out wider. "I hear you're dating your therapist. Do you love her?"

He blinked. "Straight for the jugular, huh? No."

"Then why...?" Her tone was surprisingly plaintive. He wouldn't have thought Root cared that much about his love life.

Against his better judgement, John told her the truth. "For the cover. It was Harold's idea, originally. I was waiting for the right time to bring it up and then Iris asked me. So I went along."

"She doesn't know?"

John waved his free hand dismissively. "If things get too serious, I'll break it off."

Root breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that was easy. I had a whole speech planned about how you're an even bigger blockhead than I first thought and isn't there anyone else in your life -"

John could see where she was heading with this. "He doesn't want me to tell you this, but...Harold and I are an item."

Root kicked her heel against the bed in triumph. "Oh, good! You're so obviously in love with him, I figured he was deliberately ignoring your feelings. Really glad that's not the case. How long...?"

John ducked his head. "Since he flew to Rome, to bring me home."

She frowned sympathetically. "That was only a few months before Samaritan came online and we all had to separate."

"Yeah. It's been hard. But we can see each other now, if we make time. You and Shaw are in a much worse situation... " He trailed off, still unsure about mentioning Shaw's name. But Root had said she wanted to talk.

Root was squeezing his hand quite tightly. Her face was full of determination. "I'm going to find her. The Machine is searching...She'll be back safe with us very soon."

John had his doubts, but didn't question it. He watched as she finished the nails on his left hand and then switched to his right. 

They were quiet for a long time, before John decided to just say it. "That day at the stock exchange, was that the first time Shaw kissed you?"

"No." She cocked her head to one side. "I assume you don't want details." She gave him an open, challenging look.

John coughed. "No, that's enough information. Thank you."

"Why do you ask?"

"Lionel was taken aback. Not in a bad way, just confused. He asked me about it later."

She nodded, twitching her nose a little. "Harold guessed a while before that. When did you know?"

"When Shaw cycled halfway across the state in a blackout to make sure you were okay. Can't say I understood what she saw in you, but..."

Root pinched his arm, and they smiled at each other.

\---

Once the nail polish had dried, John drove home still wearing it. There were lights on in Riley's apartment, which hopefully meant Professor Whistler had let himself in.

John went up, took off his coat, and found Harold in the kitchen, on his laptop. There was a stack of graded essays on the table. It looked like he was entering the marks online. John was glad to have him above ground again, back at his cover identity instead of spending all his time in the subway. It wasn't the free time at the precinct that had bothered John, so much as knowing Harold would barely acknowledge his existence until the Machine was back.

John leant his elbow on the table, and his chin on his hand, so Finch couldn't fail to notice.

Harold glanced away from the screen. "Mr Reese, what is that on your hands?"

John reached into his pocket, took out the nail polish and set it down in front of him.

Finch picked it up and read what it said on the bottle. "C.I.A., Color Is Awesome. _A smart, dusky blue for secret agent fashionistas._ "

Reese gave a cheeky grin, poking himself in the chest. "That's me."

Voice full of dry amusement, Finch replied: "Clearly. And you were quite prepared to tease  _me_  for taking fashion risks."

"Root suggested it as a team bonding exercise. We need to have each other's backs."

Harold took his hand and lifted it next to John's face. "Hmm. She did well, it matches your eyes. I probably have a tie in the same color if you'd like to borrow..."

John shook his head, on the verge of laughter. "Nah, I'm good."

"Alright, then." Harold brought the hand to his lips and kissed John's fingertips, one by one.

John shivered minutely at Harold's warm lips on his cold hands.

Still cradling John's hands, Harold gave him a coy look. "Would you like me to help you remove this?"

John hesitated. Was Root expecting him to wear it for longer than a night? But he sensed Harold's eagerness, his potential disappointment. He slid into a chair. "I wouldn't mind sitting here while you held my hand for a while."

Harold got up to fetch hand sanitizer and cotton swabs from the bathroom.

By the time he came back, John had decided he probably ought to confess. "I'm sorry, Harold. I told her about us."

Harold did that thing where he shrugged with his eyebrows rather than his shoulders. "I suppose it was bound to come out eventually. One more near-death experience and I might not have been able to pretend, in company."

John relaxed in his seat, surprised but relieved. "So you're not upset?"

"If anything, you've done us a favor. We're long past the time where Root might have wanted to use that information against us. I trust her with my life."

John surprised even himself when he agreed firmly. "So do I."

Harold beamed at him, pleased. Then, for the second time in as many hours, John sat perfectly still while Harold peeled the colored coating from his nails, hands splayed out flat on the table.

"You're very good at this," John pointed out, not-so-subtly fishing. Maybe he'd used to do it for Grace?

But Harold just thanked him, concentrating overly hard on his task. 

John let it go easily and tried another, more practical question. "Have you eaten?"

"Not since lunchtime. I thought I'd wait for you. Would you like to go out?"

John shook his head, not bothering to suppress a smirk. "I'd offer to cook, but my hands feel pretty delicate right now." He gradually let his voice go higher, into a falsetto whine.

Harold slowly blinked at him, his face going pink, slightly flustered by John's antics. "Takeaway it is."

He squeezed Harold's hand. "And then bed. I've still got some restless energy I need to work off."

"I suppose I owe you an apology after what the Machine tried to do. How ever will I make it up to you?"

John brought him close enough to kiss. "You'll think of something."


End file.
